


Turn Away, Cruel Fate

by LightningHope



Series: Batfam Valentine's [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 21:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17836502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningHope/pseuds/LightningHope
Summary: Soulmates are a tricky business, and not worth it as far as Tim as concerned. Fairy tales don't exist, and what's the point of someone's name written into your skin if you have to work at it like any other relationship? No thanks.Shockingly, Damian disagrees.





	Turn Away, Cruel Fate

**Author's Note:**

> The last fic for the challenge weekend! This prompt was Soulmates. I really wanted to emphasize here how there was potential for a romantic future, but also that being soulmates does not cancel out a strained relationship.

Tim’s soulmark came in when he was eight. It was cramped on his small wrist, and Ms. Mac cooed over it, to Tim’s absolute bafflement. At eight years old, his highest priority was getting photos of Robin (and Batman!), and keeping his parents happy when they were home. Soulmates were things _adults_ cared about, and in all the stories he’d read, and Disney movies he’d seen when his parents were away, involved soulmates _kissing_ , and other gross mushy things.

Who needed it?

But Tim bore this indignity. And again when someone at school saw it and his teacher told the class and everyone, as they always did when a soulmate was written, clapped half-heartedly. Even his parents had found out and they were in _Thailand_. They sent him a cool leather cuff to wear on his wrist, the first thing beyond the camera that Tim had been delighted to receive. So that wasn’t _so_ bad.

Then… things became normal again. His soulmate didn’t appear, and the signature was too small to read, though it did appear to be in the latin alphabet at least. His dad had, twisting too hard, clucked at his wrist and said he’d need to get a bit bigger before they could take him to a graphologist.

Three years later, they did. The name had actually become legible when he was ten, but Tim didn’t mention and his parents didn’t notice until he was eleven. It was written in cursive, but in pretty, crisp cursive, and not Tim’s shaky and barely-legible cursive.

  _Damian al Ghul-Wayne_. The graphologist, who had made lots of notes and humming noises, had declared at his soulmate was likely another boy, based on how dark and confident the letters were, and probably quite wealthy or dedicated, as that type of cursive came from extensive practice and usually tutors. Tim wasn’t sure he believed her, but if it stopped his mom from dragging him to every graphologist in Gotham, he’d nod along. He hoped it was a girl anyways. Girls were prettier than boys were.

“Can you _imagine_ ,” Janet said, staring intensely out the window once they were home. Wayne Manor was invisible from this angle, but Janet Drake stared like the trees would part under her gaze. Maybe Damian al Ghul-Wayne was adopted, because everybody would know if Bruce Wayne had another kid, right? He’d been pretty public about adopting Dick and Jason, after all. And if his signature had shown up at eight, then the kid had to be a toddler now. Probably unrelated. 

Content with this logic, Tim slept easy.

By the time Tim really gave a shit about his soulmate again, he was Robin, and covering it up became a bigger deal. Well, a quietly bigger deal. Bruce never mentioned his soulmate, despite the fact that Tim knew he’d read the name on Tim’s wrist, and showed him how to apply the flesh-toned patch before putting on his gauntlets.

If Bruce had a soulmate, Tim had never seen it. There were a thousand suspects. Superman, maybe, though that one would probably be platonic given Clark’s love and devotion to Lois. Maybe Kryptonians didn’t have soulmates? Catwoman, though he’d never seen her wrist. Dick maybe, but something about that struck Tim as off. Or, horrifyingly, Jason or, even worse, the _Joker_.

Tim never asked. It wasn’t his place.

And, as time went on and Damian al Ghul-Wayne didn’t show up, the less Tim cared. Why limit himself just in case his soulmate appeared? Ariana at least got it, though she was of the more progressive opinion that non-soulmate relationships were just as valid as soulmate relationships, yadda yadda.

Sometimes, he wished Stephanie was his soulmate. It would have been easier. He _liked_ Stephanie, even when she smashed his face with a brick. She was pretty, knew he was Robin, and she’d probably upset his parents.

 Other times, he wished Kon was his soulmate. They’d had a few, weird, punch-punch-kiss-kiss encounters, and Kon _got_ Tim in a way that the rest of the team didn’t. Tim was… relaxed around Conner. They were best friends, and Kon didn’t judge him for not being Dick, or not getting straight As, and he certainly didn’t give a shit about soulmates.

 And then the kid showed up. It was horrifying, for one, to see Bruce just let the kid waltz around. This was _Talia_ , who knew if that was really a kid or not! And then the kid _cut some dude’s head off!_ And attacked him! Whatever charitable feelings Tim might have had for the brat died early.  

And then Bruce died. And everyone else was dead too and Tim stared at his wrist at the name of the spoiled brat who’d taken everything from him and _hated_ him. It was unfair. Damian was a child never taught better. Tim still hated him.

A year later, hate had softened to… dislike, and mutual annoyance. And when Damian signed the paperwork officially legitimizing him with a bold _Damian al Ghul-Wayne_ , Tim didn’t say a damn word. Hopefully they’d learn to tolerate each other.

And somehow Damian’s indifference and sneering disregard meant he never paid attention to Tim, and certainly never saw his signature.

“Hey, Damian,” Tim said morosely, and Bruce’s grip on the back of his jacket didn’t falter. Even at 24, Tim had to get dragged into the office.

“Drake,” Damian snapped back, sitting perfectly straight in an immaculately tailored suit. He still had baby fat, which Tim noted to mock him about later. If he got some security camera stills, he could make a collage of it.

“You just have to sign it and attend some meetings,” Bruce explained again, letting Tim drop into a chair. “Stop acting like you’re going to die.”

“I _might_ die,” Tim muttered, and dodged the pen Damian threw.

“Stall your hysterics, Timberly.”

“ _Boys_ ,” Bruce gritted out, “get it done. Make sure Tim knows when and where the meetings are.”

“Yes, Bruce,” they chorused. Bruce sighed and pinched his nose. He left without a word.

Still sulking, Tim signed _Timothy Drake_ with extra flourish. The rest went by quickly, and Tim didn’t even think before shoving the paperwork back.

“Drake!” Damian barked, and Tim flinched so badly he almost fell out of his chair. Damian was staring at the paperwork.

“ _What_?” Tim snapped, “did I fucking sign it wrong-” Damian’s gaze _burned_ , and Tim’s sentence died in his throat. Everything was very, very, still.

Damian’s arm turned up, the sleeve pulled down and Tim saw a signature against skin and reflexively shoved his cuffed arm under the table. Damian froze.

“You _knew_?” Tim wasn’t sure if the teen was enraged or baffled, and he didn’t really want to find out.

“We’re not doing this!” Tim called over his shoulder as he sprinted out the room and down the hall.

“ _Drake_!” followed him, and employees scattered as Damian pelted after him.

 _Won’t this be a story for the grandkids_ , Tim thought hysterically as he ducked into an empty office in the bare second Damian wouldn’t see him after he turned a corner. A shadow passed, and footsteps paused as the quarry was lost. Tim breathed very, very quietly.

His phone went off, and Tim scrambled to get it out and off when he realized the caller ID said _Damian_ just as said demon child threw the door open triumphantly, phone in hand.

“I _cannot believe you_!” Damian snarled, slamming the door shut. Something on the wall fell and neither of them looked. “How long have you known?”

“Since Bruce legitimized you,” Tim replied sullenly.

Damian stared at him, and for once, Tim started to feel guilty. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Damian, per se, but Tim was beginning to realize that this was a much bigger deal for the teen than Tim had considered.

Damian stalked over, grabbed Tim by the front of his shirt, and held him there, like he couldn’t decide what to do next. Given how much he did not appreciate this, Tim started to shift to get out of Damian’s hold when the teen jerked and smashed their mouths together.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” Tim repeated, gingerly touching his lip to feel if there was blood. It didn’t feel like it, but there’d be a bruise. Swell. “What the fuck was that?”

 “I was kissing you.”

“No shit, Dracula. Why were you kissing me?” Did Damian? No. Damian was, like, an infant. Infants didn’t want sex. Or romance.

“You are my soulmate, I thought-” Damian cut himself off, and twisted away from Tim.

Fuuuuuuuck.

“Damian, you’re 16. I’m 24,” Tim said, trying to explain. Hopefully that would be enough.

“Why does that matter? There are many soulmates out there with larger age gaps,” Damian pointed out. “Why… why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Oh fuck. Unlike Timothy Drake, where Damian could suspect but not prove, Tim did not really have the same excuse for himself.

“Look, Dami, you were a kid. A kid I didn’t even like that much. What was I supposed to say? Would you have believed me? Would you have accepted it?”

“Then would you have told me if you _had_ liked me?” Damian’s voice had dropped, so low Tim barely caught it.

“I-I,” Tim stuttered, lost, “I don’t know? Damian, you were a _literal child_ , what were we going to do about it?” Even now, Tim didn’t know how to feel about Damian being so much younger than him. He didn’t feel like a sibling, but it certainly wasn’t romantic. And even platonically, Tim and Damian were like oil and water. Maybe they were just the kind of soulmates that made each other better out of spite or something. One of those tragic endings.

Wait, did that mean Damian was going to kill him at some point? Tim made a mental note to up security around his house. Who knew?

“Well what are you going to do about it now?” Damian asked, his tone weirdly hopeful.

“Do? Damian, I’m not going to _do_ anything. We can just act like normal,” Tim insisted.

“But we’re _soulmates-_ ”

“Oh my fucking God! I’m not attracted to you! I don’t fucking _care_ if we’re soulmates! This is not the be-all end-all of our lives!” Tim bellowed. A second later, guilt set in as Damian didn’t respond. Tim swore he heard the teen’s breath hitch.

“Very well, Drake,” Damian said at last, getting up and exiting the office. He didn’t even slam the door behind himself.

Sighing, Tim tipped his head against the wall. Bruce was going to _kill_ him.

“Tim,” Bruce started, fingertips together, in the stance he more usually used for business meetings. “Damian says that you two had a disagreement.” 

“It’s fine. He’s just sulking.”

“He found out about the mark.” It was not a question.

“Oh Jesus, please don’t say anything.”

“I’m not saying anything. 

“Your face is doing the thing.”

“The thing.”

“You know, the _thing_ , with your forehead?” Tim gestured to Bruce’s face, as if to explain.

 “I am not doing a thing,” Bruce insisted, still doing the thing. Tim groaned and sulked back into his chair. Unfortunately, this was not nearly as comfortable as when he’d been 14.

“Do you want Damian and I?” Tim trailed off, not sure what he wanted to say.

“I want you to make up. I don’t like my children fighting,” Bruce said.

“I can do that,” Tim agreed, relieved that this wasn’t going to change things.

“However,” Bruce shifted, looking uncomfortable. Tim realized with horror that Bruce wanted to _talk about his feelings_. “Tim, stop that.”

“What?” Tim asked innocently, trying to bolt like a spooked horse.

“This is important,” Bruce said, and Tim sat back down. “Soulmates are hard. And despite what the media says, it’s not always a clear path. I won’t make you two do anything you don’t want to, but I will make you talk about it. You need to be on the same page, and you need to communicate. You don’t need to have,” here Bruce’s face contorted, “a romance, but you need to acknowledge it, at least.”

Tim nodded reluctantly, because it was true and he didn’t like it. “If we don’t, it could cause issues.” The media, for one. Foes. Even future relationships that wanted to know why he’d chosen someone other than his soulmate.

“That’s all I ask,” Bruce agreed, and immediately turned to his computer so he could pretend this discussion had never happened. Tim was all too happy to run from the room.

After dithering for a week, Tim found himself in Blüdhaven, taking advantage of Dick’s couch.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Tim said, “we just don’t really have anything in common.”

Dick gave an assenting grunt from across the room, eyes trained on his laptop.

“I mean we’re just so _different_ , and it’s _Damian_ ,” Tim repeated, as if Dick had never before witnessed their interactions. “He’s so spoiled and angry.” 

Finally, Dick looked at Tim, eyebrows furrowed. “Timmers, I get that this is pretty stressful for you, but have you considered that you’re not really giving Damian a chance?” He held up a hand to stop Tim. “I don’t mean romantically. I mean as a person. He’s changed a lot since he was a little kid. Have you tried actually getting to know him?”

And Tim would have argued but Dick knew both of them better than they knew each other. Shamefully, Tim realized that he hadn’t paid any attention to Damian. Damian was Damian, and Damian had not grown or changed as far as he was concerned.

Tim knocked very quietly, hoping Damian wouldn’t hear it and he could claim he’d tried.

“Yes?” Damian’s voice came through the thick door clearly. Tim scowled, but cracked open the door a hair.

“Hey, uh, Damian, can we talk?”

If he could have, Tim was certain Damian would have set him on fire from a single look. “Very well, Timothy, come in.”

Tim winced. Unlike ‘Richard’, ‘Timothy’ was used to express Damian’s seething contempt.

Closing the door, Tim went and sat on Damian’s pristine bed. Damian, for his part, glared from his stool, easel forgotten.

“Look, I’m sorry for how I reacted,” Tim apologized, “I was cruel about being soulmates. At some point I had decided that the status quo was just fine and I didn’t want to change it, so I never bothered to get to know you or treat you kindly.”

“I… thank you, Drake,” Damian said stiffly, but not unkindly. “But even before I knew we were soulmates, I also did not make an effort to change our relationship, or your perception of me.”

“I hate to tell you this, but I’m older than you, so it’s my responsibility to take the high ground,” Tim informed the teen, giving him the eyebrows of Supreme Knowledge.

To Tim’s surprise (and maybe it shouldn’t have been) Damian snorted, ducking his head to hide his little smile. Turning back to his art, Damian let the room lapse into silence.

But it was a comfortable silence, and Tim found himself smiling too. A few minutes later, Damian hummed under his breath.

“In the League, we had a word for soulmates, it translates to something like ‘shield-soul’, someone who could be your equal in battle, someone you didn’t need words to fight with. Someone who was always there to support you. Grandfather never had much time for soulmates, but he enjoyed the efficiency with which those couples worked, so he allowed it. And I hadn’t realized how much I wanted something like that in my life, until now. I shouldn’t have kissed you, it must have been uncomfortable.”

“A lot of that day was uncomfortable. I get it. I never really wanted a soulmate, I figured it was annoying and unnecessary. But you can’t help but hope, can you?” Tim gave him a lopsided smile. “For someone who can protect you and help you and get you going. Isn’t that the dream?”

Damian tilted his head consideringly, but nodded. “I suppose you are right, some of the time.”

It was something. Maybe one day they could even progress to friends.


End file.
